


The Waiting Game

by retts



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Shag Marry Shove off a Cliff, Stakeouts, rock paper scissors, squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stakeouts are never fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> Circa 2010

  
Harry’s arse was sore despite the fact that he was sitting on the softest bit of floor he could find. His legs were pressed to his chest and it was supremely uncomfortable, but Malfoy had kept pinching his knee until he’d been forced to retract them. This time, it was Malfoy’s leg bumping against his hip and Harry had half a mind to retaliate before shrugging it off. It wasn’t worth the effort.  
  
This cupboard was thankfully bigger than the one Harry had at the Dursleys; he couldn’t imagine fitting into such a tiny place anymore, much less with Malfoy doing the same thing.  
  
“Could you move?” Malfoy asked, if it could be called asking with his tone like that, and bumped his right leg against Harry’s hip.  
  
“Move where?” Harry snapped and pushed the offending limb away. “There isn't any more space, Malfoy.”  
  
An irritated look came over Malfoy’s face as he shifted some more. “Just --fold into yourself more.”  
  
Harry gave him an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“ _No._ ”  
  
“Potter, my leg is starting to cramp.” There was a definite whine in the other boy’s voice.  
  
“Then you cross your legs and I’ll stretch mine,” Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Suck it up, Malfoy.”  
  
“But we’ve been here for ages!”  
  
“Yes,” said Harry slowly, “because we’re waiting to ambush Yaxley and his group when they come. This is a stakeout, Malfoy.”  
  
“We could just stay in the parlour,” Malfoy pointed out.  
  
“No, we can’t. They’ll realise someone is inside. It took a lot of effort to dismantle those wards and put them back again so we could stay in here, you know.”  
  
“I helped,” Malfoy defended.  
  
Harry snorted. “Yeah, by standing uselessly to the side.”  
  
“Shut up, Potter.”  
  
“Gladly.”  
  
The silence, however, didn’t last long.  
  
“Will you stop wriggling?” Malfoy asked sharply. His eyes were nothing but two bright spots on his face. It was rather eerie.  
  
Harry tried to keep still. “My arse is falling asleep.”  
  
“So are my legs,” Malfoy said and dug his knee into Harry’s side.  
  
Harry slapped his knee, scowling. “Quit it, Malfoy, and legs don’t fall asleep. They cramp.”  
  
Malfoy crossed his arms and the action irritated Harry even more. How was that even possible?  
  
“I already told you that, Potter, but you didn’t listen. You like to make me suffer. You are a shame to your Gryffindor heritage.”  
  
“Well, you’re here with  _me_. What does that say about  _your_ Slytherin heritage, Malfoy?”  
  
Malfoy’s tone was biting, challenging. “It means I’m thinking about what’s best for  _me_ , Potter. If I had stayed with the Dark Lord, I’d be dead right now, just like my parents.”  
  
In the dim light, Harry saw the way Malfoy’s shoulders were drawn up tight and Harry sighed, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, Malfoy. Let’s just sit here quietly and try not to drive each other insane.”  
  
“That could be impossible,” Malfoy spoke after a while and his tone was lighter, if snotty. “You’re a very annoying person, Potter.”  
  
Harry had to grin. “And you’re a complete prat, ferret face.”  
  
  
  
  
  
“ -- then Hermione said to me, ‘Harry, you shouldn’t have said that!’ and raced after Ginny. I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong and chased after them both only to be hexed for my troubles! Luckily, I’d dodged just in time and -- ”  
  
“As fascinating as your story is,” Malfoy interrupted in a sarcastic tone, “I don’t particularly want to hear about your misguided romance with the girl Weasley.”  
  
Harry glared at him. “Misguided? Why is it misguided?”  
  
Malfoy regarded him seriously for a few moments and then said, “You took the easy way out. I mean, Ginny Weasley? Merlin, Potter, even  _I_ could see that happening back in second year when she wrote that ghastly poem for you. You’re selling yourself short, settling down because she was conveniently there when your hormones kicked in.”  
  
Harry remembered that poem and had to admit that it had been rather terrible. But the rest of Malfoy’s words struck something in him and he raised his chin defiantly.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy. I  _fell in love_  with Ginny back in sixth year. It wasn’t convenient at all. She’s a wonderful girl and -- ”  
  
Malfoy cut him off. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve never even spared Weasley a second glance until you were suddenly surrounded by couples. So maybe you found yourself genuinely liking her -- people can suddenly develop feelings for a person they’ve known for a long time, I admit -- but it’s as if you’re settling for her because she’s already around and every important person in your life wants you to be together. You don’t have to meet the right person when you’re still in school. It’s as if you’re imitating your parents’ story, Potter. The red hair? Disturbing. You could do so much better.”  
  
A frown touched Harry’s lips and he held up his hand. “One, Ginny is brilliant and any man is lucky to have her. Two, it’s not like being with my mum at all, Malfoy, that is  _sickening_. And three, we’re already broken up. What did you think my story was about?”  
  
The blond’s surprise was nearly palpable. “But I thought you were going to live ‘happily ever after’ with she-Weasley,” Malfoy said and drew quotation marks in the air.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. “I  _thought_ you didn’t want that to happen.”  
  
“I  _don’t_ , not that it’s any of my business,” Malfoy added quickly. “I simply assumed you were going to be stupid and resolute about it.”  
  
Harry settled back more comfortably on the wall, which wasn’t much at all. He glanced up at the dark ceiling, thinking about Ginny. “This war isn’t easy. We’re constantly getting into danger and it changes us. I’m not the same person anymore and so is Ginny. I still love her but it’s not the same as when we were still at Hogwarts. It took a while for me to accept that because I didn’t want Voldemort to take anything else from me, especially not my relationship with Ginny. In the end, we both realised that we stayed together for different reasons. I wanted someone -- anyone -- to be with and a part of her still sees nothing but the Boy Who Lived; we both deserve better than that.”  
  
Harry abruptly fell quiet and his face flushed with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say those things, especially not to Draco Malfoy of all people, and he inwardly cursed himself.  
  
“Oh,” was all Malfoy said.  
  
Harry didn’t risk looking at the other boy.  
  
“Right,” Malfoy coughed, sounding uncharacteristically awkward. “Do you have any more stories to tell? There were interesting rumours back at Hogwarts.”  
  
Harry shrugged, smiling slightly; the tension was slowly easing off of him. “Perhaps a few,” he acknowledged. “I’m certain you don’t want to hear about the time I discovered the Chamber of Secrets and killed a Basilisk.”  
  
There was a pause and then, “ _What?_ ”  
  
  
  
  
  
“You know, Malfoy, I’ve always wondered what sort of father Lucius was.”  
  
The other boy regarded him with a stony expression. “And I’ve always wondered about your childhood.”  
  
Harry raised a placating hand. “Point taken.”  
  
  
  
  
  
“Professor McGonagall.”  
  
“That is disgusting, Potter, and Cliff.”  
  
“Hm, I have to agree with you,” Harry said with a cringe. He couldn’t imagine marrying or shagging his old professor.  
  
Malfoy smirked. “Snape.”  
  
Harry pulled a face. “Shove off a cliff, no doubt about it.”  
  
“But he’s rather eye-catching, you have to admit,” Malfoy insisted with a nudge to Harry’s foot. “Black hair – ”  
  
“That could use a good washing -- ”  
  
“Intense demenour -- ”  
  
“You mean dour and nasty -- ”  
  
“ -- with a flair for dramatics,” Malfoy finished triumphantly. “That’s hot.”  
  
Harry shuddered. “To you, maybe. Justin Finch-Fletchley.”  
  
Malfoy thought about it. “Shag.”  
  
The black-haired boy nodded. “He’s a bit of a prat but agreed. Speaking of blond prats -- ”  
  
This time, Malfoy didn’t nudge so much as kick him sharply in the shin. “Don’t even think about it, Potter.”  
  
Harry grinned widely and gave the other boy an innocent smile. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “What ever do you mean, Malfoy?”  
  
The faint  _Lumos_ from Harry’s wand was enough to illuminate Malfoy’s irked expression. “Shut up, Potter.”  
  
“How about Millicent Bulstrode?”  
  
Malfoy’s features tightened for a moment before a smirk crossed his lips. “Marry.”  
  
“ _Marry?_ ” Harry goggled. “You do know who Millicent Bulstrode is, yes?”  
  
“For your information, Bulstrode comes from a good, pureblood family and she’s rather smart.”  
  
“But she’s -- ” Harry moved his hands in a vague gesture, hoping it got his meaning across.  
  
Amusement lit up Malfoy’s eyes and he snickered. “I never would have pegged you to choose a person based on looks, Potter. That’s rather shallow.”  
  
“I would have thought you’d be more concerned about attractiveness, Malfoy,” Harry shot back. “Bulstrode, honestly?”  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m joking, Potter. She’s ugly. I deserve only the best. A Veela, perhaps.”  
  
“No Veela is going to like a ponce like you.”  
  
“Who are you calling a ponce?” Malfoy demanded and leaned across, punching Harry none-too-gently on the shoulder.  
  
“Speaking of rumours, Malfoy, I heard this very intriguing one about you, a cucumber, and Terry Boot -- ”  
  
Malfoy’s wand was pointed at him in a flash. “I dare you to finish that,” Malfoy all but snarled.  
  
Harry threw his head back and laughed. “Fine, I’ll let it go. For now.”  
  
Malfoy watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment and then tucked his wand back into his robes. He sniffed. “You’re an idiot. Hagrid.”  
  
Harry blanched and thought,  _sorry, Hagrid_. “I’d have to say push off a cliff. Trelawney.”  
  
“You have a kink for professors, don’t you?” Malfoy asked curiously. “Cliff. Have you noticed Hogwarts’ distinct lack of attractive faculty members?”  
  
“Remus isn’t bad looking,” Harry mused and then gave Malfoy a sly smile. “And before you ask, I’d have to say Marry. He’s the marrying sort.”  
  
Malfoy nodded. “True, but I’d choose shag for him. I can’t imagine myself marrying a Gryffindor.”  
  
“Face it, Malfoy, Gryffindors are the marrying type.” A name popped in Harry’s head. “Ron?”  
  
“I’d rather shag a Blast-Ended Skrewt.”  
  
Harry grinned lazily at him. “I’d shag Ron but not marry him. I reckon Hermione would skin me alive the Muggle way.”  
  
The blond shuddered. “That is a vile thought.” Harry wasn't certain whether Malfoy was talking about shagging Ron or the 'skin me alive' part.   
  
“Muggle crimes are horrifying,” Harry said, deciding it was the latter. “I once saw a television programme where the murderer hacked a poor bloke into pieces using a knife.”  
  
“Not a severing charm?” Malfoy asked, looking sick.  
  
Harry shook his head solemnly. “These are Muggles, remember? I also saw another one where this mentally unstable woman used a butter knife to castrate men who reminded her of her father. I don’t even know how she managed that since butter knives aren’t exactly sharp – ”  
  
“Good god, we’re done playing!” Malfoy exclaimed with a repulsed look on his face. His eyebrows were trying to furrow down and rise up at the same time and his lips pursed in an effort to keep from grinning at Harry. “I’m not speaking to you anymore, Potter. You have a very disturbing imagination.”  
  
Harry crossed his arms and the shadows in the cupboard shifted with the movement of his wand. “Nope, just sharing what I’ve seen.”  
  
“Well, I’ve got my proof: Muggles are barbaric.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Malfoy’s fingers were drumming restlessly on his knees. Harry watched the long fingers for a minute and then said, “Stop that.”  
  
“Stop what?”  
  
Harry gestured at the blond’s hands. “That. It’s driving me mad.”  
  
The blond gave him in indignant look. “I could say the same about the way you mess with your god awful hair every five seconds.”  
  
“I don’t -- ” Harry stopped, realising that he was about to tug on his fringe. “Fine.”  
  
Malfoy kept drumming his fingers until Harry shot him another glare. He sneered at the other boy but kept his fingers still. “There, happy?”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
  


  
“Ow! You kicked me!”  
  
“Your bloody leg was in the way!”  
  
“It wasn’t -- hey, stop it, Malfoy!”  
  
“No, you stop it!”  
  
“Don’t be so childish.”  
  
“I’m not being childish. I am tired, hungry, and I’m aching in places I didn’t even know existed! We’ve been here for six bloody hours and the instant those bloody Death Eaters arrive, I am going to bloody kill them!”  
  
There was a pointed pause. “So, do you want to talk strategies then?”  
  
“Oh, shove off, Potter.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry wanted to punch Malfoy’s gleeful face. “So, it’s ten-nothing, yeah?” Malfoy asked with an evil smirk. “I thought you were good at this, Potter.”  
  
Harry raised his chin stubbornly. “I’m letting you win, Malfoy. I reckon it’s better than listening to you whine.”  
  
“Of course,” the blond said loftily. “Another round?”  
  
Harry raised his fist, ever the Gryffindor. “You’re going down.”  
  
Malfoy met his gaze with a challenging one of his own. “You wish.”  
  
“Rock, paper, scissors!”  
  
“Dammit!” Harry cursed.  
  
  
  
  
  
The cupboard was silent. Malfoy’s head was resting against the door, eyes closed and breathing even. He’d been asleep for the past fifteen minutes and Harry didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Besides, it was a relief to stop listening to Malfoy’s whinging, even for a short moment.  
  
Harry rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck sideways, wincing at the slight crick he felt. He wondered what the others were doing, if they were as bored as he and Malfoy were.  
  
The plan had been simple enough. They had gotten a breakthrough that could win this bloody war: their spy in the Death Eater ranks had discovered the locations of Voldemort’s safe houses. There were eight of them, which meant that the Order members were paired off if they wanted to take down all the safe houses. To Harry’s luck, he’d been assigned Draco Malfoy as a partner. He’d been convinced they would end up killing each other before the Death Eaters ever arrived.  
  
 _Malfoy wasn’t too bad, though_ , thought Harry as he watched Malfoy’s head loll to the left. The blond snorted softly in his sleep.  
  
Maybe they could even be friends after this. Maybe.  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry took out the piece of parchment in his robes pocket and placed it on the bit of free space between where he and Malfoy were crouched. Malfoy leaned closer, his own wand emitting the softest glow possible (they’d cast a cloaking charm so that anybody outside the cupboard wouldn’t be able to detect any light).  
  
Footsteps sounded from the other side of the door.  
  
Harry pointed his wand and muttered, “ _Exhibeo loci_.”  
  
Spidery lines began to appear on the parchment: a rough floor plan of the safe house with dots that represented the people within. Names floated above the dots. It was one of the spells that were used in the Marauders’ Map. With Remus’s help, Hermione had been able to tweak the spell for their use.  
  
“I have to hand it to Granger,” Malfoy murmured, sounding impressed.  
  
“Yeah.” Harry’s mouth quirked in a smile. It faded quickly, though, as he examined the impromptu map. They could hear more movement outside, people talking in hushed whispers. “I say we just barge out and shock the hell out of them. Surprise is the best strategy we have.”  
  
“Like a Gryffindor, you mean,” Malfoy said but he didn’t sound condescending. “We just have to be faster than they are. Take down anyone in the way without getting hit.”  
  
“Think you can manage it?” Harry asked and met Malfoy’s eyes. The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted in a teasing grin.  
  
Malfoy kept his gaze evenly. “I bet I can take down more of them than you, Potter.”  
  
“I’ll hold you to that,” Harry said and rolled up the parchment, slipping it back into his robes. He gripped his wand tightly and felt the flare of adrenaline go through him. His heart thumped heavily with the thrill of the upcoming battle. Malfoy caught his eyes and nodded.  
  
“Let’s go,” Harry muttered as he touched the doorknob. “And Malfoy? Don’t die.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rereading it now, I find myself wondering why H and D had to break into the Death Eaters' hideout instead of just waiting for them outside, which would have saved Harry from having to dismantle the protective wards. Reading the footnotes on the doc, I remembered that I simply wanted them to be in a cupboard (and that magical people just Apparate into houses, instead of going through the front door, so better to wait inside.) 
> 
> Ah well! C'est la vie!


End file.
